Last week on two separate occasions, two members of the Oakland University family were hit by vehicles. I am in a state of shock over the lack of action that has been taken.

Those two don’t know gold when they strike it. Erm, get struck by it.

I’m not saying either one of these bicycle-versus-motorized vehicle battles were a good clean match-up. But there is an upside to exploit here. With these incidents becoming a push for the university to become more bike-friendly, everyone can win.

Whenever I go out on my bicycle, it races through my head what it would be like to be hit by a vehicle. Would I halt my bike when I see the speeding car? Would I bounce off the windshield and break my face apart? Would the bones of my leg poke through my skin?

I really don’t want to lose my legs. I love my legs. It’s almost a sexual relationship I have with them. I am double-jointed at the knee flexor and can contort to very pleasing positions.

No, the first thing that would happen is I would see not stars, but dollar signs. Crisp, green flakes of currency and I would swim naked in my brand new pool. All courtesy of my new best friend, the ignorant driver.

Let me introduce you to the long con. This will test your very fiber as a moral human, but in the end it will be worth it. Think of that hole of student loans you’re digging this semester. This is an easy ladder out.

The first step is to procure a bike. There is at least one at the bottom of Beer Lake you can reel up.

Now that you have your bike, you need to learn that you are the most important thing on the road. Have you seen those wild packs of cyclists with their shaved legs weaving into traffic on main roads? That is you now.

It is much easier for a car to hit a bicyclist than a pedestrian. Trust me, I fear driving through Berkley ever again.

Once you get run down, I will hope you can employ your acting skills and fake pain, rather than have your face rearranged by the pavement upon impact with the ground.

As such, you must learn to carry a concealable piercing device with you on your bike route. Safety pin, lead pencil or, if self-wounding is too scary, stockpile ketchup packets from the OC.

It must appear that you’ve been pelted by a mortar while storming the Normandy coast.

The rest of the process is time-consuming. Fake a limp, conjure a doctor’s note, suffer memory loss. I’m sure you know the symptoms of brain damage or tendon tears. None of this is unlawful.

When your court date looms, be prepared for the biggest performance of your life. You will need to cry. The best way to achieve this farce is lemon zest in the eyeball, or spend the prior evening watching tearjerker films like “My Girl,” “Titanic,” or “Battleship.” It was so bad.

It is always a fear floating in the back of the mind to be injured while doing outdoor exercise from the negligence of distracted, texting and the flat-out stupid drivers.

If you are lucky enough to become another statistic, make sure the inconsiderate fool pays a hefty fine right into your checking accounts.

—-

Contact Copy Editor Brian Figurski via email at [email protected]